Before the tests, the waiting, or the worry, there is usually one small moment that sets the tone.
At Jefferson, that moment often belongs to Wendell Sweeney.
Standing at the front desk, he greets patients with a smile that feels easy and unforced. It is the kind of welcome that softens shoulders, slows breathing, and reminds people they are not walking into this alone.
“I try to be as friendly as possible,” Wendell says. “You’d be surprised how much a smile helps. If I have a positive attitude, it can really improve the patient experience.”
That outlook did not come out of nowhere. It was shaped by a moment that nearly changed everything.
In 2024, Wendell survived a serious crash while driving. “I lost an argument with an 18-wheeler,” he says. “The last thing I saw before waking up in the hospital was a grill.” The injuries were severe, including broken vertebrae, broken ribs and glass embedded in his arm.

He recovered physically faster than expected. Emotionally, it stayed with him longer.
Seeing the hospital from the other side changed how he understood care. It was not just about treatment. It was about how people made you feel while you were there.
“I’m no doctor, but I wanted to do something that could help people the way others helped me,” he says.
Unable to return to his warehouse job, Wendell applied for a Guest Services role at Jefferson. He did not expect much. What he found instead was a team that welcomed him right away, even surprising him with a birthday celebration during his first week.
“I’d never felt that kind of welcome at a job,” he says.
That feeling stuck. And it showed up in how he treated others.

At the front desk, Wendell began noticing something. Some patients needed more than directions or paperwork. They needed a few extra minutes. A conversation. Someone willing to listen.
So when his supervisor suggested bringing small comfort items to patients, Wendell leaned in.
The idea became the “Welcome Wagon.”
At first, it was simple. A cart with toiletries and reading materials. Then Wendell made it his own. He added books from his personal collection. He printed large-font puzzles after noticing patients struggling to read smaller ones. Most importantly, he stayed a little longer when someone needed it.
“Some patients don’t get visitors,” he says. “When you stay a little longer, their faces light up. That moment of connection matters.”
Patients began asking for specific puzzles. They shared hobbies, preferences, little details about what made their days easier. Wendell listened and built on it, even creating a personalized activity book based on their feedback.
“The more you listen, the more you can bring people what they truly enjoy,” he says.
Sometimes, the moments were unexpected. Like running into someone he once knew, reconnecting in a place neither of them expected to be. Other times, it was quieter. A short conversation that turned a difficult day into something a bit more manageable.
For Wendell, none of it feels small.
“A little optimism can go a long way,” he says. “If a patient goes into therapy or a procedure thinking, ‘I can do this,’ that attitude helps them heal.”
He shares that same energy with staff too, offering puzzles or a quick break when the floor slows down. Because, as he sees it, supporting the people who care for patients matters just as much.
Looking ahead, Wendell hopes the Welcome Wagon can grow beyond him.
“If I can do it, others can too,” he says. “I just want to bring more hope to more people.”
For now, he shows up each day in the same place, greeting people at the start of something uncertain.
“This place has helped me so much,” he says. “It feels like another home. And if I can make someone’s stay even a little brighter, then I’ve done what I came here to do.”
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